


Another Cup of Coffee

by Leticheecopae



Category: Homestuck, Nightmare on Elm Street
Genre: Death, Horror, Other, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-15
Updated: 2013-11-15
Packaged: 2018-01-01 16:05:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1045837
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Leticheecopae/pseuds/Leticheecopae
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>All Karkat has to do is stay awake. Just stay awake and he'll be fine. Unlike Nepeta, and Equius, and everyone else who heard that damn story of Aradia's. He just has to stay awake and then the clown can't get him. Too bad even insomniacs need sleep, no matter how little.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Another Cup of Coffee

The coffee is starting to taste like nothing but hot water he has had so much. Karkat would do another monster, another five hour energy, but his heart already feels like it’s going to leap out of his chest. That could be the fear talking though, most likely it is, but it’s not like he can tell anyone about it. The second someone hears the story, the name, they’re fucked. It’ll eat at the back of their brain like the hungriest fucking caterpillar and then their dead. Dead, dead, dead. Just like Nepeta; just like Equius; just like the rest of them. Why had Aradia told them that damn story?

 

“You keep drinking like that you’re going to drown yourself.” The waitress, Roxy by her name tag, means for it to be funny, cheerful, and maybe a bit reprimanding. Karkat just glares at her over the bruise like bags beneath his eyes and juts his cup out for more coffee. She sighs, but does as the movement asks. “Don’t blame me when it comes trickling out your ears.” The steam billows up and Karkat watches it for a moment as he listens to her heels click away. It’s white, curley, and makes patterns in the air. He just follows it with his eyes, watches the patterns materials, and then he sees the face.

 

‘Hey ya motherfucker.’ Karkat’s head jerks up and he pants hard. He’s micronapping, fuck. The coffee is still scalding as he forces himself to chug it, the pain waking him up as blisters form on the roof of his mouth. He gasps for air as he finishes. It’s time to move.

 

“Keep the change,” he calls as he leaves a twenty on the table and hurries out. It’s too much for the six dollars in coffee he’s had, the six cups, but he’s probably going to be dead before the sun rises so who even cares? His car has already lots it’s warmth when he hurries inside and turns it on.

 

‘Be careful Motherfucker,’ Karkat’s eyes come up to the rearview mirror. ‘Driving tired kills.’ Karkat forces his eyes forwards and turns the key.

 

“I can only hope,” he murmurs as he shifts into drive and peels out of the parking lot. His phone rings and he scrambles for it in his hoodie pocket and just barely misses the gaurdrail.

 

“Karkat?” The voice is shaken, scared.

 

“Terezi?” He hadn’t heard from her in hours, had even gone to try and find her, but had instead found a few droplets of blood in the center of her sheets along with her glasses. “Terezi I thought you were dead!”

 

“Karkat, I-I’m so scared. I don’t know where I am, it doesn’t smell right.” She sounds like she’s been crying, her voice thick and breaking.

 

“It’s okay Terezi, it’s okay, is there anything that smells familiar?” He’s breathing hard into the phone as he tries to follow the yellow line on the two lane highway. It’s a bit hard to do when there’s two of them.

 

“I-It smells kind of like…” she pauses and Karkat hears her sniff. “Your car.” Karkat freezes. The voice isn’t in the phone anymore. Turning slowly he looks over to the passenger’s side. Terezi is sitting there, blind eyes bleeding tears and a noose around her neck. “Karkat. Keep your eyes on the road.”

 

Karkat’s head jerks up. He’s still in the parking lot, the heater is on, and his mouth aches with the heat blisters from the coffee.

 

“Shit,” he pants. She’s dead, really dead, the fucking clown got her. Tears bead in his eyes, his teeth clench, and the anger boils in his stomach. “SHIT!” Both of his hands come down on the wheel, hard, and then it’s gone and there are hands gripping his forearms.

 

“Been waiting for you motherfucker,” the clown says. Karkat stares up at him with wide eyes. He’s not in his car anymore, he’s not sure where he is anymore, but he thinks he can smell burn cotton candy.

 

“G-gamzee?” Karkat stutters and tries to pull away.

 

“See, you’ve always my special little miracle.” The clown lifts up a pot of coffee. Karkat tries to jerk away, but the two hands hold fast. Where was the third hand coming from? What was happening? “Thirsty motherfucker?” Karkat can smell it before Gamzee even begins to pour. It’s black, bitter, burnt, and boiling.

 

——

 

“He won’t stop screaming,” Roxy sobs into her phone. “I’ve tried to wake him up, but he just keeps screaming ‘Gamzee’ over and over.” She cries and stares at the boy slumped over on the counter. “Officer, I don’t know what to do. There are burn marks appearing all over him and I..I. ” She starts crying hard as the kid sits bolt upright, eyes rolled back in his heads as his hands grip the counter, steam coming off of them..

 

“It’s okay,” officer Dirk replies. “I’m on my way, just keep trying to wake him up. Don’t stop trying to wake him up. And he’s talking nonsense, don’t listen to him.” Shit shit shit shit. “Can you do that for me Roxy?”

 

“O-okay.” She replies. He hangs up the phone and floors it as he grits his teeth. Fourteen kids in the last three nights. Fourteen. “You’re not getting this one too you bastard.” He couldn’t tell Roxy about Rose with the knitting needles in her eyes. “Not another one.” He glances at the sunglasses on the dash. They are round, cracked, and he can see blonde hair trapped in the joints and blood on the rims.

 

“Not another.” Down the highway in a Lalonde’s dinner Karkat stops screaming for a split second. His eyes roll forwards, bloodshot and wide in his sunken sockets.

 

“Y-you okay?” Roxy asks. He doesn’t move, just stares ahead as burn marks start to cross over his face; as something begins to trickle from his ears. Roxy steps back just before coffee pours from his mouth. It's hot, steaming, and tinted red.

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to post something here to show that I am not dead! All chaptered stories have been put on the back burner thanks to school and a ridiculously long prompt list, though nothing has been dropped! Just thought I would let y'all know that here since I haven't updated in forever.


End file.
